


Daydreamer

by erkkey



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Genre: Gen, Harry's POV, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erkkey/pseuds/erkkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard to concentrate while Perry berated him with a hamburger in one hand, and a bottle of KY jelly in the other, and before you ask why the hell he had that particular combination in hand, he'll get to that later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daydreamer

So...we're here again. I know, you're probably thinking 'doesn't this guy have anything better to do, or just...anything', or maybe you're not. Maybe you're not thinking about me at all. Ouch. But anyway, no, I don't. Have anything better to do that is, or anything. Look, I know, I know – I suck at this gig. I always have, and I probably always will, and you should realise this now too. I mean, come on, they obviously aren't paying me for this stuff. They should, but they don't.

Who are 'they' you ask? Well, they are nobody, important, anyway. Okay, so they might be important. _Okay_ , you caught me off guard. I don't know if they are important, or if they have an Alice in Wonderland fetish. Bottom line is I'm not getting paid. So you should damn well appreciate my narrating, because I'm doing it for you. Yeah, I know, stop lying, right? Well, no. It gives you an ego trip and it makes me seem like one of those people that are selfless. Not that I'm sel _fish_. I should be one or the other, but whatever, it's my story, my narration.

I'm getting snappy, I know. I can't help it. You see, it's not you, and no, it's not me either. Really, it's not. It's Perry. Yeah, I _know._ Blame it on the guy that isn't here to defend himself. If he _were_ here to defend himself, you'd be screwed. I'd be screwed. Mostly me, but you're here for the experience, so why the hell not. Back to Perry, though. It's totally his fault I'm snappy. You see, after the whole Dexter Harlon escapade, life got so wild, I'd thought I'd woken up in Ibiza. Okay, you're right. That's taking it too far. I've never been to Ibiza, for all I know it could be some disease-ridden whore town. It probably is, too. Like, really. Go there expecting a night with a fine young lady – turns out she's not a she, and **she** knows how to handle a frying pan, and you, well you wake up with no damn organs. It's not a fair deal, right?

I've gone off track again; I don't even remember what I was saying. What's that? Scroll up and look? How about you shut your cakehole and let me do my job. Which I _don't_ get paid for.

So...Perry- no, wait, life after Dexter Harlon. You're probably thinking after that, life really did get wild; parties every night, lots of women, or at least lots of naked Harmony, me and a bed. You're way off the mark, buddy. I mean, yeah, there _were_ parties every night, and there _were_ lots of women, but, y'know, the parties were the same old crap that they were before Dexter Harlon, and the lots of women just weren't into me. Oh, and naked Harmony, me, and a bed. Never really happened. Like, it did, but it didn't.

I'll explain real quick, because I know what you're thinking, where in hell's fury is the plot? Did you ever think that maybe there wasn't one? Well there is so sit back down, heat up your cold popcorn and give a man a chance. So me and Harmony, it was doomed from Day One. Let's not sugar coat it, she just wasn't made for me, and I just wasn't made for her. Too cliché? Just...whatever, it's true. She was all for the whole I-can't-be-with-one-man...thing, and I was just the guy that didn't understand that whole...thing. Sure, being with various people at the same time would have its perks, but at the end of the day, I kind of just want to go home, to the same one person, and watch, I don't know, Thomas the Tank Engine- No, wait, too creepy. We'd watch something like, hell I don't know. Obviously, I _haven't_ thought this through. Is it really _that_ surprising. But it would be with one person and one person only. Unless we had friends around. Not that I have any. There's Perry, but I don't think what we have would be called...friendship, in any shape, form, or universe.

Life got boring. Oh wait, skipped too much. Yeah, life didn't get wild, blah blah blah. To tell the whole truth, and nothing but, it got boring. Like you all know, Perry hired me to work under him, what you might not know is how much that bastard doesn't trust me. Alright, you might, but he still doesn't. He always gives me the lame cases – cheating wife cheats with pool boy. Over it, get a new pass time housewives. Father loses his daughter. Come on, how many fathers can really lose their daughters in the space of six months? Get a tracker collar, already. Jeez. Some people just don't have a clue. Anyway, those are my kinds of cases. According to Perry, that is. I'm destined for greater things, even Harmony agrees. Not Perry, though. No way. Always goes on about how I'm missing a part of my brain, and never listen properly. Something like that. It was hard to concentrate while he berated me with a hamburger in one hand, and a bottle of KY jelly in the other, and before you ask _why_ the hell he had that particular combination in hand, I'll get to that later. Patience is a virtue, or whatever.

So, boring life, lame cases. You get the idea. Anyway, one night, Perry decided he actually might need help. Sure, he might have mentioned he only needed me to keep guard while he broke into some hot-shot lawyer's office and 'confiscated' some papers his— _our_ client had hired us for. See? He totally gets the cool cases. Not cool enough? Did I mention said papers pertained to said lawyers dealings with said client who just so happened to be being blackmailed by said lawyer. **_So_** much better than Mrs. Hudson getting it on with Sanchez in the pool.

We were on this case, and like Perry wanted, I was being a guard dog. Yeah, my bite is even less scary than my bark, but I'm damn loyal, you know. Totally makes up for it. He was in this lawyer's office, which was huge, by the way. Like, it was bigger than most of the places I'd lived, it was better looking too. I think Perry got a little too pre-occupied with some purple not matching some yellow wallpaper, or something, because he was in there for a while. He said wait twenty minutes, and I'd waited fifteen, and that was long enough. I figured twenty minutes was a guideline, rather than an instruction. Even if it was, I've never been good with instructions, you know. I know, I know. I'm really not much of a guard dog, or dog but that's okay, because like I said, I'm loyal, and because of that loyalty I went to check on Perry, you know, worried that he'd gotten himself into some kind of situation, bleeding on the floor, ready to breathe his lasts words to me. It totally wasn't because I was so bored of staring at a cream wall, with nothing but a toothpick to entertain me. I mean, really, who gives a guy a toothpick and says ' This will have to do' ? Perry, obviously. He also pointed out that the wall was in fact off-white, and not cream, as I had previously complained about in the first few minutes he made me stand there.

So, Perry – bleeding, on the floor, ready to make his dying confessions to me. I wish. Instead, he was leaning against hot-shot lawyer's desk and skimming through the papers he— _we_ had come to acquire. He ruined our could-be movie moment. Instead, he mumbled something about Xanadu—what that had to do with anything, I still don't know, so no, you're not the only one in the dark.

Turns out me coming in, like, five minutes early was no big deal. Yeah, Perry kind of snorted at me, and sighed. I get that sigh a _lot_. What? Not enough drama for you? This isn't Days of our Lives, this is life, where romance comes to die, and drama disintegrates into dust.

Back to the case though. Alarms went off. Why? I don't know, I might've walked across some red lasers... I wasn't looking. Perry groaned and I high-tailed it out of there. With my priors, you just can never be too careful. Perry followed suit, I think at some point he actually was in front me. He can really move when he wants to. I'm not trying to toot my own horn, or whatever, but I'm not slow, my being scrawny hides a lot of potential run-away muscles...used to run away, from police mostly. Authority issues? Let's not even go there.

Anyway, I decided our best means of escape was through the garbage disposal hatch. It's really overdone in movies, but it works. If you do it right, and Perry was an expert, which I knew, so I decided that was our best route. Teamwork is my forte. You know, leave no man behind, and all that. There was but one downfall to my plan. A tiny one. I'd entered the hatch first, bad idea. I'm not a hatch expert, like Perry, so I had no idea what I was doing. Look, I'm not saying Perry is some kind of garbage disposal-whisperer, but the man knows what he's doing, and with him _behind_ me, he couldn't control jack, and he usually leads the way, I flail, and he catches me at the end. Like a real team. We could be the next Batman and Robin if he let me buy the suits, but no, he says it's a stupid idea and that I'd look patchy as Robin. He's cruel, and mean, and a jerk, but...he catches me at the end of the hatch. Which, by the way, I was nearing the end of. Have you ever landed on rock-hard asphalt? It hurts like a bitch. It did this time too. I came rushing out of the hatch-tunnel at what felt like one million miles, arms first, head last, and no, I didn't scream like a girl, I was totally making bird calls. I mean, what if a bird had heard me, come to my rescue, and saved me from grazing my ass? You just don't know, and you have to try these things.

I hadn't landed gracefully. It didn't go well with my limbs, and I'm pretty sure I broke my pinkie. My fingers don't have good luck. Perry's do. Perry just...does. His landing was feline-esque. It was stunning. But, I didn't really have the time to be stunned, because as you might remember, alarms blaring, and more than a slight chance of police and guards after us.

Perry, being the butchest gay man in L.A, casually slung me over his shoulder and legged it back to his car. I _could_ have walked, or ran, but I probably just would have slowed Mr. Athletic down, so I took the ride on his shoulder, and I enjoyed it. As much as a man can enjoy a ride on another man's shoulder, anyway. In the car, things didn't go so well, Perry sped off. As he should have. That wasn't the problem. It was the barrage of 'idiot' and 'moron' and 'fag-hag' that I received while we drove that didn't go so well. Like, somehow the whole alarms thing was my fault. What kind of lawyer has alarm lasers anyway? That didn't go over with Perry so well though, which started another string of profanities and words I just didn't understand directed towards me. Give a guy a break. Perry can be such an asshole.

Oh, and I promised that I'd explain the whole KY jelly and hamburger thing, so I will. You see, after that bungled operation with the lawyer, Perry gave me the silent treatment for a few days. Apparently, I cost him a lot of money. After the few days of silence, which, by the way, he only gave up to tell me to shut up, and call me an idiot, and sometimes a fag-hag. Fag-hag just means he cares.

Did I mention I'd moved myself in to his place? Well, I did. It's kind of the catalyst to the whole KY jelly thing, so yeah, put down the popcorn, and take a note. Anyway, a week or so later, we were almost back to normal, and one day, he just decided we needed to sit down and have a 'talk'. He treats me like I'm twelve, I swear. So we had our 'talk', which wasn't so much an us-talking sort of thing, so much as a Perry talking at me kind of gig. I listened at first, I swear. I tried really hard, but when he went off on some tangent about the stock market, I drifted off and started thinking about popsicles. Shut up. They are practical, and delicious. Don't judge. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he noticed my lack of interest, because he felt the need to point out how goofy I looked with a huge grin on my face, and how sex was no smiling matter. I totally disagree with that statement. Sex is all about smiles. Sure, there's thrusting, and genitalia, and whatnot, but at the end, you're meant to smile. That led me to think about what kind of sex Perry had been having, and more important, how we had gone from economics to sex. I just can't see a plausible link between the two. Unless, you have sex after you make lots of money. Anyway, I think Perry once again noticed my lack of focus, which he remedied by connecting his palm with my cheek, telling me to really listen, or something.

This time I did. But only because there were no more boring tangents, and implausible segues. Somehow he had snuck a hamburger into the room, or maybe it was there since he dragged me from my magazine time for this oh-so-important talk. So yes, enter hamburger. It doesn't get a flashy entrance, sorry. He picked it up, and pointed at me before taking a bite, and proceeded to point at me again.

" You're ruining my sex life." He'd said cooly.

I wasn't really expecting that . I mean, I hadn't done anything. Right? Right.

"Huh?"

"Do you know how long it's been since I've used this on someone other than myself?"

Enter KY Jelly, accompanied by hamburger in other hand. It was almost hypnotising. The delicious thought of eating a hamburger, and the...not so delicious thought of Perry using KY jelly on himself, or anyone else. It was more than slightly disturbing.

Enter Perry telling me I don't listen. I heard that bit, but I was kind of distracted, like I said before, by conflicting images of mouth watering food, and lots of unconventional man-love. With Perry. It was every shade of wrong. I couldn't even look at him. I mean, I've got nothing against gay people. Hello, I live with Perry, and am his "fag-hag". So don't try and pin that stuff on me. But, I don't want to have to think about man-parts, unless it's my own. Okay? Anyway, the whole not looking at him thing was what led to the me-missing-part-of-my-brain statement.

Oh, and I know, he hasn't really explained why I was ruining his sex life. I'm getting there. So, it took a while to shove the images of man-on-man sex out of my brain, and welcome back in my beloved popsicles. As soon as I had though, Perry was at it again.

"I can't bring anyone here, and if I do, they leave."

I stared at him, obviously missing something.

"How is that my fault? Maybe you need to work on your technique, or find better dates or whatever."

That earned me a classic Perry scowl.

"It's because of you that they leave, idiot. They either think you're just plain creepy, or they think you're my boyfriend."

"How could I be your boyfriend? I'm straight." I looked at him incredulously.

"They don't know that, you moron." He groaned, rubbing his forehead with his now hamburger-less hand. "It's L.A. You'd think I'd be able to find a man without morals."

I was still obviously missing something, because he'd lost me.

"I don't understand, I'm not gay."

Okay, so, for future reference, it's not a good idea to wind up an already wound-up Perry. It just doesn't go well. He didn't hit me (again) or anything like that. He just put down the KY jelly, put his hands on my knees and looked straight into my eyes.

"Are you listening?" I nodded. This time I was really going to try. But, if he started on economics again, I think it's fair that I don't have to listen. Anyway. "I like men. I am single. I go out and pick up men hoping to ravish them when I bring them home." Too much information. Popsicles. Popsicles. Popsicles. "When I get home, you are generally asleep on the couch." I still wasn't following. I made them leave because I was asleep?

"When they see you, they think you're my boyfriend, and before you even mutter the words ' I'm straight', they don't know you. They don't know you're straight. They assume. Welcome to the world, Harry. After they assume you are my boyfriend, they assume I am cheating on you—"

"You'd be a real prick if you cheated on me" I interjected.

He sighed. "I'm not with you, moron. You're straight, remember?

"Oh, right. Sorry, got caught up in the moment." Can you blame a guy?

"So...they think I am cheating on you, and they grow a pair, and they lecture me about being faithful, and they leave. Are you understanding why it's your fault yet?" He tilted his head, and I won't lie, it was intimidating.

I mustered up a half decent nod. "So, you aren't having sex because they think you're being an asshole and cheating on your sweet, clueless boyfriend, asleep on the couch?"

"Right."

Staring seemed to be my new pastime, because there I was, at it again.

"That's just stupid."

"I know."

"I'm not moving out."

"I know that too."

"So, what do you want from me? I'm not sucking you off, Perry."

"Oh, god. Gross. Why would you even say that! I want a deal."

That...sounded ominous.

"A deal?"

"Yes, dimwit. Do I have to repeat everything?"

"...No?" What did the man want me to say, and more importantly, what the hell kind of deal did he want.

"I want a system, so I can bring men back here, and so you can get the fuck out of my house while I do it."

That didn't sound all that fair.

"You're going to kick me out every time you have a man here?"

"Yes. I'm going to call you, and you will answer, and you will pack a night bag, and you will leave until the next morning—don't ask where you will go, figure it out. Go to Harmony, she seems to like you. Why, I don't know. You're an idiot, and a fag-hag."

And that was that. What? Were you expecting some kind of back and forth argument about it? That just wasn't going to happen.

But that's the story of the hamburger, and the KY jelly. Oh, and I do leave whenever he has men around, and it's contributes to my being snappy. I mean, do you know how many men he has around in a week? If I wasn't his fag-hag, I'd call him a gay-whore. But then, I'd be screwed, and out on the street, and as much as I hate having to pack a night bag like...every other night, and spending the night with Harmony and her new Director boyfriend, it's better than the street.

I know better than to—Yeah, you know what. I'm not going to wrap this whole thing up in one nice little package. I don't have a message, or a moral, or whatever it is that sells these days. I'd just like to make a friendly reminder that I don't get paid to do this, and that I meant no offense to people with actual Alice in Wonderland fetishes. I guess. You might need professional help, but who am I to say? So, finish up your popcorn, have a nice glass of milk, or whatever it is you do before you go to bed, and get back to real life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All opinions are what I think Harry would have, none of them are specifically my own.
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥


End file.
